Let You Fall
by Apnoea
Summary: Ioki and Booker try to make it worse, but they hit a stump. Or two. Bad summary, honestly. Booker/Ioki slash.
1. Chapter 1: The Us Thing

**"LET YOU FALL"  
_A Booker/Ioki chaptered fic_ **

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**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything 21 Jump Street. If I did, I wouldn't have let Jonah Hill at it, would I? :P

**A/N:** Okay, this thing has been stashed on my Google Docs account for quite some time now, and I thought I may as well post some of it. There's another few thousand words to it, but I haven't gone over them and made sure I want to keep them, or make the fic go in a better direction. For now, have this. There should be some more Ioki/Booker fics out there so I don't have to write some! :P  
PS. Got inspiration from the theme song. I was that stumped. Honestly.

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--  
**THE "US THING"  
**_Chapter one  
-- _

"I love you, Harry." Booker said as he brought his hands up to cup his partner's face. It had only been a week and a half, roughly, since they decided to go out, and they hadn't _done_ anything as of yet, but he thought their relationship seemed so… well-fitting, and the scene, at this time with them lying on Harry's bed, seemed a perfect moment to say those words. When he looked into Ioki's eyes, under the lust, he could see pain, as if it was scarred in his eyes forever. It made Booker mentally (and slightly physically) flinch to think that his partner had almost lost his life on numerous occasions, and wouldn't be here right here, right now, if he hadn't survived.

Ioki's eyes closed for a moment or two, stopping Booker from reading him like a book. As if he knew what Booker was thinking when gazing into his eyes, pain flickered across his mind in moving images, almost like a film – the days in Saigon when he was Vinh, and Thai Kieu was still alive, and then that one scene on the beach, and the hours of searching for his parents on the boat. He flinched at the memory, which was still so clear in his mind. It ached to think about Thai, so much, even now after all this time. And then there was the drive-by just recently. That was a different type of pain. It hurt him most because it caused others around him pain and worry for not waking up for so long. It pained him that it hurt Booker, too, even though it was what brought them together.

He opened his eyes again. "I know you do," he replied after his mind stopped flashing his past, not sure how long he had actually been zoned out for. Ioki could tell Booker cared deeply about him – he just wished he cared the same. The slightest of a frown appeared on Booker's face. "I'm sorry." Ioki tried to say slowly, but it ended coming out in a quick heap.

Booker sighed and dropped his hands from Ioki's face, placing them on his slim waist instead. "I know you don't love me," he said so quietly that Ioki didn't hear properly, but it was predictable enough for him to refrain from asking Booker to repeat himself.

"I…" Ioki began, looking down and not knowing how to place his words properly. When he looked back up again, Booker's eyes were closed. He disliked when the other closed his eyes during moments like these, because Ioki could never tell what he was thinking. "It's just… I haven't…" he took a deep sigh. "It's tough to explain."

Booker sighed and sat up, instantly missing the closeness and warmth of Ioki's slim frame, but didn't dare to lie back down – it was some sort of ego thing he had: he didn't like softening up and showing weaknesses at times when he should be upset. "It doesn't matter," he said lightly, before standing up and pulling his jeans back over his black boxers.

"Dennis," Ioki said, sitting up and watching Booker make his way out of the bedroom, but not following. "You don't have to leave."

Booker paused at the just outside the door of the bedroom, still in Ioki's view, and sighed. He was rolling over in his head what to say, but decided to say nothing at all as he continued to walk further away from the bedroom. Soon enough, Ioki could hear the front door of his apartment open and close. He sighed and leant back on the pillows, wanting sleep.

**!#$%^&*()**

In the morning, it took Ioki a few crunchy bites into his first spoonful of cereal before he remembered the scene from the previous night. He groaned slightly and swallowed the mouthful, although he had not properly finished chewing. He yawned and pushed the bowl away, having suddenly lost his ravenous appetite. He was already dressed and ready, since he always dressed before breakfast – a habit he always had, just in case he was running late. He sighed again and headed over to the sink with his cereal and coffee each in one hand, tipping them both down the sink at the same time; the spoon fell with a clunk, and for once, he couldn't be bothered putting his dishes in the dishwasher before grabbing his leather jacket and leaving for work.

As soon as he arrived, Penhall was in his face and asking if he could do anything to help. Ioki, annoyed as he was, politely declined multiple times. "It's okay, Doug, I can manage myself."

"You sure?" Penhall asked skeptically. "If you need anything, man, my desk is right over th–"

"Penhall," he interrupted sharply, "I'm _fine_."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you are." He gave Ioki a weak smile, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off in the other direction.

Ioki took a deep breath and looked around; it felt weird not seeing Booker around the chapel anymore – after a while, he became a part of the place, just like Hanson had; as annoying or arrogant as he might've been, he was still a part of the team. Ioki sighed and turned around, taking a seat at his desk. He uselessly fumbled with some papers that were on the desk, at loss for what to do for the day. He couldn't think straight. Sleep sounded good right now, but the day had only just started, and he was at work. He sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that morning. All the chatter around him between the numerous employees of the small department seemed to die out, though only to him.

"What's up, Ioke?" said a voice beside him, and he instantly snapped out of his zoned out state, the noisy chatter of everyone returning to his ears, and turned his head slightly to see Hanson standing there, looking quite awkward.

"Nothing," he said automatically, that being his response to that one question almost all the time, unless something really exciting was going on. He gave Hanson a weak smile. "How's work been?"

Hanson smiled slightly and said, "I only just started again the other day. On a case about these college gamblers."

"Oh, sounds troublesome," Ioki said quietly, not really taking much notice to what Hanson was saying. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks." Hanson smiled. "You doin' okay, man?"

Ioki's eyes snapped up quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"If you need any hel–"

"Yeah, I know," Ioki interrupted. "Penhall's desk is right over there."

Hanson let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that's it."

Ioki couldn't help but smile, too. They stood there silently for a few moments, just smiling, until Fuller's booming voice angrily called Hanson's name. Ioki gave Hanson a sympathetic smile as he left.

Ioki was left to ponder his emotions and mind once again, boringly staring at the papers on his desk, and zoning out from the chatter. He couldn't stop thinking, and it wasn't just about the scene from last night. Just being here, everyone asking if he was alright, reminded him of the drive-by, and the drive-by reminded him so much of Saigon, and Thai, and his parents… the beach… He didn't like those memories much – they didn't blur with time like he hoped they would; they just stuck there.

"You ain't fooling me, Harry," Hoffs said as she came to sit on his desk. "There's more to it than you're letting them know." She tapped his head slightly, giving him a weak smile as he looked up.

"Nothing's wrong, Jude." Ioki said, smiling back at her. Him and Hoffs had always had a close relationship, sort of like a good pair of siblings. "I'm fine."

She frowned slightly. "If you're not ready for work yet, Harry, don't push yourself into it. Take a few more days off… Pushing yourself into this job won't make it what you want it to be, or what it used to be. You have to give it time. You just woke up from a–"

"A coma, I know. I was _there_, Jude, in case you forgot." He said moodily. He was sick of people fussing over him.

"In case you didn't realise, Ioki, but I was there when it happened, too!" she hissed back as quietly as she could, though that didn't stop the moodiness of her voice. "If you're not ready for your job, _go home_."

Ioki stood up quickly, his chair toppling over. "I don't have to do what you, or anyone else, says! You got that, Jude?" he said this loudly, causing nearly all the heads in the Chapel to stop and gape at him. Blowfish, who was changing a light bulb, turned on his ladder; Penhall had dropped some of his papers, causing them to spread all over the floor as he quietly swore to himself; Hanson, who was just coming out of Fuller's office, turned with wide eyes; many random workers had also turned, goggling at him.

But then there was someone at the entrance of the Chapel, looking the most shocked of them all. He was clad in blue jeans which were tight around that certain area (that being the fashion, of course), a plain white shirt, and his orthodox leather jacket.

Once Ioki's eyes had found Booker, he couldn't adjust his gaze to anything or anyone else, as if they were glued there. Soon, following Ioki's gaze, other's turned their heads to Booker.

"Hey," Booker said once he realised almost everyone in the Chapel was staring at him; his tone was normal, as if nothing had happened, though his eyes were still locked with Ioki's. "Just wanted to come by and check to see how everyone was going." With that, most people went back to work, doing whatever: Penhall bent over to collect his dropped papers, and Hanson walked over to help him; Blowfish went back to that very troublesome light bulb; Hoffs stood from the desk, shooting a glare at Ioki (though it went unnoticed), and making her way to Fuller's office; and many others went back to whatever they did around this place.

Booker was forced to break the gaze with Ioki when Penhall had made his way over to greet him, Hanson on his tail. Ioki took this quick chance, as Booker followed Penhall and Hanson to Fuller's office, to leave the chapel to get some fresh air.

**!#$%^&*()**

Booker stood silently behind Ioki, who was sitting on a step and lightly banging his head on the brick wall that his side was leaning against. He didn't want to make his presence known just yet – he wanted to help Ioki, but he wasn't sure how he could. He had just come from Fuller's office, where Hoffs was yelling at the Captain to do something about Ioki, but Booker had assured them that he'd talk to the man in their behalf; it seemed like an absurd idea to the rest of the people in the office at the time – "Why Booker?" – because they did not know about Booker and Ioki's relationship as of yet.

Booker didn't appear as the nicest of people at times – rebellious, moody, arrogant, and stubborn were only a few of the words that people would use to describe Booker most of the time – but really, he was soft inside, even if it was deep, deep down. He was selfish, he'd admit that. Most of the time he did things to benefit himself, but now that he wasn't a cop anymore, he didn't see the point. He used to look at it as being an extra thing to make him look good, maybe get a promotion, instead of maybe saving someone's life by stopping a criminal. Now he realised that everyone else mattered, too, not just Dennis Booker. He decided to clear his throat, and Ioki sighed.

"I knew you were there."

Booker frowned. "You did?"

He saw Ioki's head bob slightly downwards and up again in a nod. "You don't exactly breathe the quietest when you're annoyed or pissed off."

Booker made his way to sit next to the other on the step, lazily leaning his arms on his legs and sighing. "Harry…" he said quietly, not sure what else to say. More time passed – not awkwardly, just silently – as Booker looked at the steps in front of him and pondered what he would say to comfort the man beside him. He was never good with other people, unless it was with things like punching them out or insulting them. His breathing became slower and less forced as he relaxed more, and that actually made a great deal of difference to the noise of the scene – all that could be heard was distant voices from the Chapel, and some horns and a few sirens from the streets that were a bit further away.

"It's not your fault." It was Ioki who broke the silence. "That… that I'm having a bad day, I mean. It's not your fault."

Booker let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to hear."

Ioki nodded slightly. "Yeah. I mean… if it were over what happened last night, you would have more right to be having a bad day than I would."

Booker nodded. "Sorry about last night, man."

"Dennis," Ioki said and stood up, shaking his head. "I can't do this. I thought I could, but I couldn't."

Booker stood up, also. "Do _what_?" his tone was a bit more angry – worried, even – than it was before.

Ioki's kept his eyes focused on the ground. Booker knew what Ioki meant, he just wanted it confirmed; there was a small hope in Booker's stomach, though, that Ioki wasn't going to say what he predicted he would. _Maybe it would be about his job,_ Booker said to himself in his mind, selfishly wishing that that would be what Ioki was talking about.

"This whole _us_ thing, Booker." Ioki sighed, and brought his gaze up to look at Booker, who was looking at him intently. "Good luck finding a job."

With that, Ioki turned back towards the Chapel, and Booker pulled at the sleeves of his leather jacket, and headed for his car.

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**A/N: **If you managed to read that, thanks. Drop a review? Please? I'll get more done eventually, but not if I think no one wants it, haha. I don't know how big the 21 Jump Street fandom is on here, so, uh, yeah. Bye!

– Veronica


	2. Chapter 2: Pick Up

**"LET YOU FALL"  
**_**A Booker/Ioki chaptered fic**_

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**A/N:** Well, here's another chapter. There's a few people on LiveJournal who seemed to like the first chapter. Thanks, guys, if you happen to be reading this. :P But I hope this chapter isn't confusing. Flashback starts at the "Flashback" underlined and italic text and ends at the "/Flashback" underlined and italic text. Simple, yeah? But right after the flashback finishes, it picks up from the end of the previous chapter. Really, it's simple, but sorry if it confuses anyone.

Again, I'm kinda worried about OOCness. I hope I didn't do too badly.

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--  
**PICK UP  
**_Chapter two  
_--

_Flashback_

Their relationship started with a visit, which had started with a knock. Those knocks that said a whole story; they were fast and furious, drumming against the cold wood in such a fast movement that they almost sounded like one big bang.

Booker had gotten through front doors of the apartment as another resident had entered, and he took his chance, too nervous to use the intercom. He didn't know why he should be so nervous – it was just a harmless visit to a workmate, right? Or, well, ex-workmate. Sure, he liked the guy in a way that was strictly forbidden in his 'Booker's Rules of Dating' mind-book, but it's not like Ioki could tell that he liked him, right?

The knocks grew louder and faster as booker realised he was cold, saturated from the pouring rain outside, and he was becoming impatient. _Where is that stupid cop?_ he thought to himself, starting to tap his feet along to the rhythm of the knocking.

"Okay, okay!" he heard an angry voice say behind the door. "I get it!"

Booker was sure he also heard the man utter some swearwords, mixed with some words that were not in his vocabulary, as the door swung open, revealing Ioki in his black dressing gown, his eyes puffy with tiredness, and his long hair dishevelled. He could have sworn that Ioki's eyes looked distant, too, in a way he had never seen them before. Probably from not starting work yet, Booker assumed.

"Booker." Ioki said in a quietly surprised voice, his tiredness apparent in his energy with his body language and speech. "What're you doin' here?"

Booker gave a slight smile. He forgot to check the time before he came, and decided to glance at his watch now, before he replied. It was 11:56PM.

"Oh. Sorry." Booker said, suddenly more nervous, his left hand rubbing the back of his hair. "I didn't realise it was so late. Didn't think you'd be sleeping. Sorry." It was unlike him to apologise so much, instead of bursting in the apartment and getting himself a beer. He would with anyone else, but this was Ioki. He didn't even know if the man drank beer. He looked like a cocktail guy to Booker.

"No, no. It's okay." Ioki said, groggily, running his hand through his long hair, stopping slightly when his fingers came across some knots. "Come in. You look cold." Ioki added, and moved from the doorway, to let Booker pass.

"I just came to see how you were going." Booker said.

It had been a week since Ioki woke up from the coma, and four days since the man had been home. He had had plenty of time to visit, but didn't want to seem eager.

Ioki yawned. "Want a coffee?"

Booker could tell Ioki was ditching the subject, but he didn't want to drop it. Not when he had come all this way across town just to talk about it. "I came to visit you nearly every day. And no thanks."

"Funny you say that, Booker." Ioki said in a dry, almost sour and moody tone. "The others said you hadn't come to visit me at all."

Booker scuffed his feet on Ioki's floorboards, pulling at the cuffs of his leather jacket, whilst he contemplated his reply slowly, not wanting to say the wrong thing, in fear of angering the man. Actually, Booker was surprised that Ioki had not yet gone off at him for knocking loudly on his door at nearly twelve AM.

"I only visited at nights." It took him for what seemed like minutes to think of that reply.

Ioki sighed. Booker noticed he was standing near the kettle, waiting for it to boil. "I know. A nurse told me the day after I woke up that a man who always wore a leather jacket, looked intimidating, but had a police badge came to visit me every night."

Booker stopped playing with his cuffs and scuffing his feet almost instantaneously.

Ioki poured boiling water into two mugs, before stirring them with a teaspoon. "Why did you visit every night?"

Booker made his way to the bench, a few feet from Ioki, so he could lean on it, not being able to support his own weight at the moment. It was _so_ unlike Booker to feel nervous, even feel intimidated, because of someone; usually he was the one making someone nervous or intimidated.

"I said no to the coffee." That's all he could say. He felt like punching himself in the face for being such a dick.

"It's hot chocolate." Ioki muttered, as if that explained everything behind the two mugs, and if Booker actually wanted some. "You didn't answer my question." Ioki added, still drowsily, as he poured the milk into the mugs, almost spilling it on multiple occasions.

Booker looked down at the wooden bench, and traced the patterns of the varnished timber with his eyes for what seemed like ages, as Ioki stood there, stirring the hot chocolates that were probably past the need for that said action.

"I don't know." Booker said in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "I was worried, I guess."

Ioki pushed a mug violently in Booker's direction, and Booker was honestly surprised when it didn't topple over during the process. Maybe Ioki had angry-mug-pushing skills, Booker thought.

"You? Worried about someone?" Ioki said, letting out a yawn. His tone was still dry and testy, so Booker couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or actually wanted a genuine answer.

Booker decided to test it, and said, "Well, I worry about myself sometimes." He wasn't sure how his own voice sounded; he had meant it to sound like he was lightly joking, but now that he had said it, he wasn't sure if it came out sounding deadly serious or not.

"Oh," Ioki said, quietly laughing darkly and leaving the kitchen area for the couch. "How could I forget that Dennis Booker _worries _about _himself_?"

Booker was sick of this, and he was sick of not being himself, and not just punching the guy already. He was near ready to let of a large string of swear words, but he settled with the toned down '80s television style of vocabulary. "What on Earth is up your tail?"

Ioki sighed, making his way back to the sink, and tipping the hot chocolate out. "Just answer my question honestly, Booker. Why did you visit me every night?"

Booker sighed. It was unlike him to be nervous, so he was going to ditch that feeling (and he found it easier said than done, but eventually, he was feeling more like himself). "Because I like you, Ioki."

Ioki actually emitted genuine laughter. "Is it an honour to be liked by you or something, Booker?"

Booker frowned. "That's not what I meant." Ioki had no idea how painful it was to sit by that hospital bed and have the thought that this man would never wake up; sure, he only realised his feelings for Ioki once the man was shot, but it didn't mean that that took some of the pain away. He promised himself then that he would tell Ioki he liked him if the man ever woke up from the coma.

Ioki stifled his laughs, and Booker found it weird for someone to laugh at a lousy misunderstood sentence when they've been in a dark mood all night.

"I mean I 'like you'," he said, confidently, more like himself, with quotation marks.

Ioki's smile immediately fell, and he stared at Booker, his eyes wide and shocked. "… What?"

The previously confident man stood there awkwardly, again scuffing his feet. There wasn't much to say in reply to Ioki, except to repeat himself, but there wasn't much need to.

Booker was shocked by how oblivious he was when he didn't realise Ioki approach him, until the man hugged him from behind. He jumped from the sudden closeness and warmth of the other; his mind was racing, and he was pretty sure his heart was, too.

Ioki seemed to lean into Booker's back, moulding himself there, and Booker found it comfortable enough to stop nervously scuffing his feet.

"Wha—what does this mean?" Booker said quietly, not needing to have his voice at a normal volume, seeing as the person he was speaking to was basically attached to him at this moment.

Ioki let out a small, quiet laugh. "It means I like you too, Booker."

_/Flashback_

Booker pulled up his car at the nearest parking spot he found to the Chapel, and turned his keys to the off position, and pulled them out. He wished he had rode his bike to the Chapel, because the feeling of the air rapidly abusing his face is what he felt he needed right now, otherwise he was tempted to kick something or lay a few punches into the nearest person. And he definitely needed a cigarette. He'd given up when getting together with Ioki, learning that the man didn't like the smell.

Booker turned to check his surroundings; he was at a park, which was practically deserted, with no one in sight but some weak passing traffic.

Booker let out a string of angry swear words as he repeatedly slammed his hands on his steering wheel, and in the process, accidentally dropping his keys into a small crack between the seats.

"Great." He muttered sarcastically.

**!#$%^&*()**

Ioki sat at his desk, going over in his mind what had just happened. Hoffs had been giving him glances that he knew were meant to be invisible to him, but she wasn't great at being unforthcoming with things.

He placed his head in his hands and sighed, wanting to get out of here. There was no point being here if Fuller wasn't going to give him a case. Their worry was unneeded, of course. Ioki was _fine_.

He was interrupted from his thoughts of how fine and dandy he was right now when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find himself face-to-face with Hoffs, which was not unforeseen.

"I'm _fine_." Ioki said, impatient, assuming she would ask how he was, _again_.

Hoffs gave him a stern look. "Whatever, Harry. You ain't foolin' me. I think you should go home."

"Look, Jude," he said, sighing for what seemed to be the millionth time today, "I'm fine." The sternness in his voice matched hers.

Her look somehow became sterner as she scrunched her brow more. "Did Booker talk to you?"

This surprised Ioki's stern façade, and he almost physically flinched. "You _sent Booker_ to talk to me?"

Again, Hoffs improved her sternness by folding her arms just below her breasts. "No. I found it strange, but he suggested it when talking to me and Fuller." This made Ioki frown. "But, obviously, he didn't do a good enough job of talking sense into you."

_Well, all we did was talk about how I ruined our relationship,_ Ioki thought to himself, wanting to actually blurt it out, but he had more self-control than that.

Hoffs was staring down at him, as if expecting a reply. She finally realised he wasn't going to say anything after a while. "I think you should have another week off for yourself, Harry. I don't think you're quite ready for work yet, and I think the Captain agrees with me."

Irritation crossed Ioki's face. "No, Jude, that's not fair!"

Penhall and Hanson's heads turned from the desk they were both at (which made Ioki wonder if those two ever left each other alone) and so did many others in the office.

"Harry." Hoffs said in an even sterner voice than her appearance, a warning that she was about to go off.

Ioki groaned quietly in defeat, not wanting her to make an even bigger scene of this. "Fine. I'll go home, Jude, but not for a week."

**!#$%^&*()**

Ioki sat in his flat a few days later, more dishevelled than ever, too embarrassed to go back to work yet. He convinced himself, though, that he wouldn't talk a whole week off. He'd already been home long enough. He was _fine_, just a little messy — physically and mentally, but he was only willing to admit the physical part.

It was rare, though, that many things would pass his mind. He mostly thought about one thing, and occasionally thought of things like going back to work, feeding himself, and having a shower. The main thing he thought about was Dennis Booker, and it annoyed him so much. It's not like he just broke up with a person he'd been with for a year or something, but Ioki had a thing with attachments to relationships. He just didn't realise it sometimes until they were over, or nearly over. Ioki was never really one to date lots, like Penhall, and had only had a few relationships in the past. Rarely in these relationships, though, he would actually be interested one hundred percent in the person by obsessing, falling in love, or whatever. Most of the time he was not as interested, and only realised he deeply liked the person when the relationship was over.

Ioki had the suspicion that _this_ was one of those cases of late realisation.

Ioki looked outside the window at the sunny outdoors, and suddenly craved to go out. He looked at the time – three in the afternoon. He glanced at the phone, and the thought of calling _him_ raced across his mind on repeat, his subconscious repeating the words 'just call him' over and over.

Eventually, he gave in, picked up the phone, and dialled Booker's number. He knew it off by heart from calling it about three times a day in the two weeks they were going out.

Ioki's subconscious hoped that Booker would pick up, but on the other hand, he was hoping, deep down, that Booker would not be home, so he couldn't ask him to get coffee like he actually really wanted to. His mind even confused himself.

But Booker didn't pick up.

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**A/N:** Uhm, I hope whoever is reading enjoyed that chapter. Sorry for any typos/misspellings/OOCness/whatever. Thanks for reading? Really, I appreciate it. Oh, and, some reviews would be nice? Pretty please?


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